


they think our love is just a growing pain

by stevebuckiest



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Cars, DONT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!, Graduation, Insecurity, Inspired by Grease, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Leather Jackets, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plans For The Future, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rings, Secret Relationship, Self-Doubt, Smoking, Underage Drinking, for the aesthetic, implied anywayz, kenickie and danny kissed at least once and i stand by that, steve rogers puts ponyboy curtis’s secretly artistic greaser self to shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: He hates knowing that he’s right about something that hurts so much, but there’s no fighting reality, not when the entire world around them has shown time and time again that what Steve Rogers wants is too wrong for even a wrong-side-of-the-tracks kid like him to have. If he even has it anymore.Steve sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	they think our love is just a growing pain

**Author's Note:**

> my talent growing up was shipping every mildly homoerotic pairing even in retro media. kenickie and danny? sandy and pinkie? gay. todd and neil? gay. the princes from the princess and the pauper? gay.

She’s perfect for him, now. Even more perfect than before, which is what kills him. Even when she’d had flat hair and dressed like someone’s grandma, she was perfect for him in a way Steve never could be- and it isn’t fair, but it is _right._ He hates it. He hates knowing that he’s right about something that hurts so much, but there’s no fighting reality, not when the entire world around them has shown time and time again that what Steve Rogers wants is too wrong for even a wrong-side-of-the-tracks kid like him to have. If he even has it anymore. 

Steve sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette.

It’s hard to think about this stuff, but it's even harder to _not_ think about it. That’s the curse of an artistic brain, Bucky always tells him. He’s got a one track mind. Once it gets set on something, there’s no getting it off until the problem is either solved or distracted by something else. That explains a lot about why Steve’s been stuck on him for so long, he thinks. Bucky weaseled his way into Steve’s mind, his _life_ , and never managed to get his way back out. At least...not before. Now? Steve isn’t so sure about what’s going to happen. 

There he goes thinking about it again. 

He’s tried drinking himself stupid before to stop the thoughts that have been building up steadily over the course of senior year, but it seems to seep into his brain no matter what state of sober he’s in, because like always, it has to do with Bucky. And like always, that’s exactly who Steve’s mind is stuck on. Has been since before he can even remember. 

He knew it wasn’t obvious, the two of them. The queerness. They might have been best guys for longer than most people had ever known them, but they barely even hugged in front of people (a decision that was made on purpose, lest someone catch wind of what was going on behind closed doors by the way Steve dropped his chin onto Bucky’s shoulder or the way Bucky always fit a hand into Steve’s hair when he did). What sane person was going to look at them, two rough-and-tumble buff guys who spent too much time talking cars and chicks, and suspect that they were knocking boots in their spare time? That they were kissing each other stupid in the backseat of the junker they claimed to have fixed up to get some pussy? 

No one would ever realize, suspect, or even _question_ the idea that Steve and Bucky were anything more than best friends, and while that should have been a relief to them both, it was what drove Steve to smoking his last pack of cigs on his back porch at midnight like he was now.

He would have preferred to take the car up to somewhere secluded so he could smoke or drink in peace, maybe even cry like he was wanting to these last few weeks, but Bucky had the damned thing. Plus, Steve’s folks are home, and he knows that if they heard him drive off or found him in his room with smokes and booze under the bed, they would smack him something silly, so outside it is. He doesn’t mind too much. The air is warm with the approaching summer heat ahead, and there’s something almost poetic about sitting on the porch where he and Bucky kissed for the first time getting agonized out of his mind over the idea that the kiss they’d shared in the garage yesterday while Bucky was fixing the radiator on their car might be the last. 

Bucky had needed the car to drive Dolores somewhere, tea with her aunt or some shit where they could all discuss her and Bucky’s possible high school happily-ever-after- Bucky’s folks have been trying to get the two of them together for forever. The Barnes are a respectable family, despite Bucky’s reputation around town as a bit of a bad boy. Steve was the one who had roped him into all of that- letter jackets and picket lawns were where Bucky came from- they want him to be something important like a doctor or a lawyer, not a mechanic stuck living as bachelor with his useless best friend. Steve couldn’t blame his family for wanting to take him back to it now that they had the chance. 

It’s what got Steve to thinking about all this unpleasantness in the first place, though, and he guesses that all that thinking is why he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching him until the familiar sight of scuffed boots and frayed jeans are at the edge of his eyesight.

Cut him some slack. He’s a little preoccupied with getting his heart ripped out. 

“Hey, why the long face, man?” The voice that comes out of the darkness is teasing, husky and honey sweet in the way Steve normally loves. Steve doesn’t feel all that amused currently. 

He doesn’t even bother looking up, just takes another drag of his cig and taps the ash off the cherry while he lets the taste of the smoke settle in the back of his throat. He watches the red glow fall to the ground and has the ridiculous image of it being a chip of his breaking heart, letting out a slow exhale before answering.

“Thinkin’,” he says stiffly. That’s what he feels like right now. A stiff. 

The voice from the darkness now revealed to be Bucky, still clad in his letter jacket and white tee from earlier, takes that as an invitation to plop down on the porch next to him, close enough for their arms and legs to press against each other in a way Steve would usually find comforting. Right now it makes him feel a bit ill, to be honest. 

“‘bout what, Stevie?” he presses, as dark haired and charming as ever

Steve doesn’t care to elaborate, even with Bucky’s easy demeanor. “Just been a long day, I guess.” 

It has been, with all the celebrating and whatnot. He’d been so happy, surrounded by all his friends and his best guy. Even with that dumb fucking letter jacket Bucky’s parents had gotten for him in an attempt to make him look more cleancut. Bucky Barnes, track star and bonafide brainiac. As far away from being Steve’s best guy as he could get. 

Steve had been kind of excited for the future for once today, even though he knows that his probably won’t amount to much. Especially if he’s on his own like he’s beginning to suspect he’ll be. 

Bucky hums noncommittally and knocks the toe of his boot against Steve’s beaten up converse he’d thrown on before slouching out here just in case he’d decided to go for a walk. “So why aren’t you in bed then, huh, stud?” His voice is light and teasing again, but Steve knows Bucky doesn't believe him. Bucky knows him too well for all that, he’s gonna try and weasel out an answer, but Steve isn’t sure what to say.

He tries his best to deflect in order to avoid it, but he knows it’s in vain. “Don’t act like you weren’t hopin’ to find me awake, prancin’ over here at midnight,” Steve attempts to sound light, but it falls flat. “What were you gonna do if I wasn’t down here, throw rocks at my window, Romeo? Invite yourself up to the passion pit?” Unintentionally, the last part of his banter turns bitter. Something about the romantic connotation of it he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to still have, he supposes. He stubs out his cigarette on one of the cinder blocks lining the porch.

Bucky is silent for a moment. Steve flicks the butt away and prays for it to start a forest fire so he won’t have to hear the heartbreaking answer he’s dreading. 

No such luck. 

“I was hopin’ to see you tonight, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. “But I wasn’t hopin’ you’d be upset. C’mon, are you sore at me? What’d I do?” He doesn’t sound angry, just earnest, and Steve wants to shove him away suddenly at how sweet he’s still being. It isn’t _fair._ Steve doesn’t want to have to tell him to stop- but he should. Bucky deserves to be happy, even if it isn’t through wasting his time playing queer with Steve. 

Steve, who can’t give him a family or anything stable. Steve, whose only talents are making useless drawings and picking too many fights. Steve, who can’t do anything for Bucky, including love him publicly. 

Steve, who isn't worth Bucky’s time.

Unbeknownst to the topic of Steve’s turmoils, Bucky slides his hand over to rest on top of Steve’s own, thumb moving in circles trying to comfort him.

Steve sucks in a breath, feeling more choked up now than he had when he was chain smoking cigs earlier before he switched to the joint. He can’t find the words for all the things he wants to say, but the feeling of it crawls up his throat and makes his eyes water before he can even open his mouth. Despite Steve’s refusal to look at him, Bucky notices immediately.

“Steve?” he says a little frantically, hand leaving Steve’s and coming up to cup his neck instead. “Please look at me.”

Steve wants, for a moment, to refuse. He feels afraid suddenly that if he does talk to Bucky about it, about Dolores and the crushing reality of their suddenly open future, that it’ll make it all true and Bucky might- Bucky might leave. But he’s already had his pride trampled on enough it feels like, so he swallows hard and forces his eyes up to meet Bucky’s, worried and wide under the dim light of the porch. 

“What’s got you all twisted up inside, huh? What’s got my best guy so upset?” Bucky whispers. His hair is flopped in his face, product worn thin from a long day, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s about to come out of its cage and choke him. He loves that stupid curl on his forehead so much it’s ridiculous- he loves _everything_ about Bucky so much it’s ridiculous. Something so small meaning so much- Steve feels low down and lonely, even with Bucky sitting right next to him. 

Shame ripped away, Steve chokes back a sob. “‘S just… ‘S hard sometimes, Buck,” he admits quietly, hesitant to really get into all of this. Bucky responds with a gentle squeeze on his neck, a motion to keep going. He takes another deep breath in, closes his eyes, and exhales shakily but continues anyways. “I was so happy earlier. Bein’ with you, even with that dumb track jacket on,” he tries to joke, bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s blue letter clad one.

Bucky smiles fondly and bumps him back, eyes still worried and imploring Steve to go on. 

Never able to say no to him, Steve does, no matter how hard it is. “Felt a little bit on top of the world, to be honest. But then you went off with Dolores, and I- even though I _know_ , Bucky, you’d never two time me and- I know it isn’t your fault…it just doesn’t feel fair that we have to hide and sometimes I feel like even though you want me, you might get tired of having to keep me around when you’ve got this big, bright future ahead and no one else wants me to be a part of it.” He was crying now, he knew. “You deserve to be happy and to not have to hide, and Dot could give you that. I _can’t_ , Bucky, and it tears me up, sometimes. It isn’t fair, and it hurts, but I know it’s true.”

There’s silence for a while. Steve feels like it’s smothering him. Eventually, Bucky’s hand on Steve’s neck slides up to grasp his face, forcing Steve to look at him through his tears. Bucky looks as broken as Steve feels.

“Stevie, I’m not gonna lie to you,” he says softly, and Steve’s heart fills with dread.

He had been right.

“No, honey, listen to me,” Bucky adds on hastily, eyes widening at the panic Steve must be expressing. He leans in and hauls the other boy best he can into a close embrace, head tucked against his shoulder. “You’re right, it isn’t fair, and yeah- sometimes it’s hard not being able to be like other couples. It’s hard as hell not being able to hold you in public and show everyone what a catch I’ve got,” Bucky says fervently, rocking them both back and forth- out of comfort for Steve and for his own anxiety, Steve knows. He sniffles and clutches at Bucky’s back harder to ground him even through his own smattering of nerves. 

Bucky goes on. “But Steve, I have to tell you. I’m real gone on you, have been for a long time. Ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna take me away from your dumb ass, ‘specially not somethin’ as small as a _perm_ , Steve, c’mon. You know I’m more into blondes, anyways,” he jokes, making Steve give a watery laugh into his neck. “And you’re my blondie, aren’t you?” Sobering up, he pulls back and reaches down to grasp both of Steve’s hands in his, leaning their heads together. “I don’t want a future without you in it, punk. Don’t care what anyone else says or wants ‘cept my best guy. As soon as we save enough cash up, we can blow this town if you wanna, sweetheart. Got a car and everything already, remember? We could go somewhere else and get a fresh start, just you and me. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Steve’s eyes dart up, words falling on his ears like they’re too good to be true. “You serious?” His voice, thought still fragile with tears, is hopeful. Reverent. “You’d want to?”

Bucky smiles and leans in for a kiss that Steve clings to like a dying man even though he’s hopeful now that it won’t be anywhere near the last time he gets to have it. “As a heart attack, doll. Handsome face like that, I’d have to be crazy not to give you anything you want.” He pulls Steve in tighter and whispers his next words like the best kind of secret. “‘M stuck on you, Rogers, don’t be lettin’ that blonde head of yours or anyone else tell you differently. With you ‘til the end, ‘til the end of the line.”

Steve laughs, happily this time, and kisses Bucky again with a passion that makes Bucky smile against his lips. “I’m you ‘til the end of the line, too, Buck.” That’s how they first said _I love you_ \- before the kissing and all the queerness that was bottled up inside- and either of them pulling it out now that they _do_ say _I love you_ properly...it makes Steve’s heart ache something fierce, this time in a good way. 

Bucky breaks away from the kiss after a few moments, brushing a strand of Steve’s hair out of his face and dropping his hand to Steve’s bare arms. He’d come outside in his sleep shirt, a thin grey tee, and even with as warm as the night is his arms are still prickling with goosebumps the more the air cools off. “You cold, darlin’?” he asks. 

Steve smiles at the attempt to subtly lighten the mood and lets Bucky lean closer to him, arm curling around him tighter. “I’m fine as long as I got you.” And he _does_ , thank god. 

“Sap.” Bucky kisses his hair, for once washed clean of product from the shower he’d taken earlier to try and help calm his nerves. It hadn’t done much, but now- well, things aren’t perfect, but they’re better now that Steve knows Bucky is still by his side and will be in the future as well. He lets Bucky nuzzle into his hair for a minute before the brunette eventually speaks again, voice a murmur to make sure to keep quiet. “You want my jacket?” His voice implies he means something more than just casually offering it for warmth. Steve’s stomach flips. 

As dumb as he thinks the jacket is (it looks good, but…c’mon, Bucky is smart, but he’s not a prep), Steve can’t help but nod. The _aw, shucks_ expression he knows he’s wearing is a little embarrassing, but he thinks it’s allowed with how corny the gesture of Bucky offering him his letter is, even if they _are_ no longer in high school and they’ve been going secretly steady for the entire time they were. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says nonchalantly. “If you think I can pull it off as good as you.”

Bucky grins as he slips it off and around Steve’s shoulders, baring his own arms, toned and tanned from working on cars outside the garage. “Maybe you’ll let me pull it off _you_ sometime later,” he says suggestively, fondly watching Steve snuggle himself inside the jacket and breathe in Bucky’s scent that’s barely sunk inside the fabric after one day’s wear. 

Steve snorts and leans against Bucky’s inviting shoulder. “Maybe when my folks aren’t upstairs asleep,” he hums. 

“S’where you should be, punk,” Bucky says softly. “Don’t you have a shift at the garage tomorrow?” 

Steve groans and buries his head in Bucky’s neck, glad he picked the back porch to sulk on so he can get close to him without worrying about the neighbors spying on them. “I had too much on my mind. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I can smell the insomnia on you, pal,” Bucky murmurs. They both are familiar with Steve’s habit of smoking when he’s upset- it shit for his lungs, but he’s been doing it for so long it's a habit by now. Besides, Bucky does the same thing. “You should try and get some shut eye now, though. Maybe after you get off tomorrow I can pick us up some burgers from Howlies and we can drive up the Mariner’s Point?”

Steve squints at him. “You trying to get me up there for some neckin’, Barnes?”

Bucky laughs quietly and punches Steve’s shoulder. “I was gonna say we could just have dinner and talk about things, but if you want those cards on the table….” he lowers his voice. “I’ll see what I can do, stud.”

Steve snorts and purses his lips. “You gonna send me off without a goodnight kiss?”

“Never, dollface.” Bucky lays one on him, short and sweet, before pulling back and a thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “So, do I have a date with my guy tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow and every day after,” Steve shoots back softly, letting Bucky kiss him again. “You want your coat back for the walk home?”

Bucky grins crookedly. “Nah, you keep it. It looks better on you anyways, I’ll just tell my folks I lost it.” He rubs Steve’s back through the leather. “Now get up to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow after your shift, yeah? Maybe we can stick around and watch a race or something, go up and spend the night in the car.” They’ve only done that a couple of times before when they wanted to go further than bedroom bingo with their folks out for an hour or so, but Steve always loves it- being able to see Bucky surrounded by the stars and sleeping next to him (even if it is in the backseat of a junker) is just as good as getting lucky is any day. 

But he's not quite ready to let Bucky go yet, not after the night he had, so he just leans in more in response. Bucky cuddles him close in silence for the next few seconds until Steve can bear to pull himself away, yawning and tired from being surrounded by Bucky’s jacket and his calming presence. It’s been a long day, and a big one to boot. He _is_ kind of beat, both emotionally _and_ physically. 

He still has enough in him to kiss Bucky a final time and whisper out a hushed “I love you, Buck” against his lips, though. He’ll always have the energy for that. 

Bucky kisses him back, linking their fingers together with a private squeeze, cold metal of his rings pressing into Steve’s skin. “I love you back, Stevie.” Then, with a rueful grin as he pulls away and pushes up off the porch, “Now go to bed, kiddo. Sleep tight and dream about seeing me tomorrow, yeah? Even high school graduates need some shut-eye.”

“Get outta here and I’ll try,” Steve tosses back, voice too soft to pack any heat. “Can’t go to bed with you still yapping.” Even as he speaks, his fingers curl shyly around the sleeves of Bucky’s letter, and based off of Bucky’s wide grin shining in the lamplight of the street as he backs away, he notices. 

“You’re my guy,” he says, almost like he can’t believe it. As if Steve hasn’t been his since they were sixteen and scared about what holding hands meant for them. 

“I am.” 

“Swear?”

“Swear as long as you do,” Steve answers, pulling the coat tight around his shoulders. 

Bucky stops by the edge of the fence to Steve’s backyard and twists his hands- at first, Steve thinks, out of embarrassment- until a moment later Bucky is calling out “ _think fast_ ” and there’s a glint of gold getting itself tossed over for Steve to snag in his palm. When he opens it up, Bucky’s class ring is staring up at him, and Steve is glad the dark hides the flush it brings to his face as he looks up at Bucky with an incredulous expression. 

“Buck-“

“You’re the only part of highschool worth rememberin’,” Bucky cuts him off. “And if you’re mine, you might as well have it. I know it’s not a diamond or shit but- think of it as a promise.” 

“A promise about what?” Steve manages, although he thinks he knows the answer already. 

Bucky’s smile turns soft. “That you’re my guy,” he repeats gently, bared down to his t-shirt and jeans because of everything he’s handed over to Steve tonight. To Steve, it makes him look almost vulnerable, especially with his next words coming out as quiet as they do. “And maybe one day...when we get out of here...we can trade it out for something more proper. But until then,” he gives Steve a salute of a kiss from his lips and starts walking backwards again, still talking. “I’m your fella, punk. Doesn’t matter who knows it as long as you do.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve whispers. Bucky is out of earshot by now, turned and walking his way easily down the street, but Steve can’t help but say it again. Even if it’s mostly for himself. “ _I know_.” He clutches the ring closer in hand to his heart and smiles at the sight of it shining against his palm by the sleeves of Bucky’s jacket. 

They might not have a picket fence or kids in their future- but just the two of them is enough. Always will be, no matter how low Steve’s head gets him, because _Bucky_ is always there to wade in and pull him out. He’s Steve’s guy, just like Bucky is his. 

Steve raises the ring up to his face and presses his lips against the face of it. _One day_ , he thinks. One day they’ll get out of here in their beat up car, go somewhere where Bucky can get work at a garage and maybe Steve can work and do the paintjobs. One day they’ll be able to go home every night to the same bed and sleep side by side without fear of one of their Ma’s walking in on something they shouldn’t. One day.

Until then….Steve is okay with having Bucky’s track jacket shoved under his pillows and ring curled up in his palm while he sleeps. Once he’s situated up in bed in that exact position, he turns his head into his pillow with a smile and squeezes his fingers tighter around it, breathing evening out as he tries to fall asleep. 

He might not know exactly what the future holds, but he knows one thing- _Bucky’s_ gonna be the one that’s holding him through it, and that’s all that really matters in the long run. 

**Author's Note:**

> we start believing now that we can be who we are..grease is the word. as always, i hope you enjoyed and (nice) feedback is welcomed!


End file.
